


Status is Green, Captain Vantas. All Thrusters Go.

by hydromeow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward First Times, Bara Karkat, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, M/M, Mentions of sexual failure, Rose is a smug shithead, Safewords, Sub Dave, There's no actual D/s action but Dave is definitely the more submissive partner, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydromeow/pseuds/hydromeow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time you'd ever tried to fool around with Karkat, you'd gotten your hands onto his hips and then stopped because he'd started doing that thing where he breathes too fast then feels sick and gets dizzy and has to hide in his room because suddenly being around people makes him feel trapped.<br/>The second time it was you who'd backed off, wondering if he'd think you were some disgusting scrawny alien with too many scars and not enough wits to avoid earning them. He'd just pulled you against his broad chest and fallen asleep curled almost protectively around you. You couldn't look at him for a week.<br/>This time, so far both of you are still a green for go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Status is Green, Captain Vantas. All Thrusters Go.

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are currently open on my tumblr! (casanovakarkat.tumblr.com)

The first time you'd ever tried to fool around with Karkat, you'd gotten your hands onto his hips and then stopped because he'd started doing that thing where he breathes too fast then feels sick and gets dizzy and has to hide in his room because suddenly being around people makes him feel trapped.

The second time it was you who'd backed off, wondering if he'd think you were some disgusting scrawny alien with too many scars and not enough wits to avoid earning them. He'd just pulled you against his broad chest and fallen asleep curled almost protectively around you. You couldn't look at him for a week.

The other times are far too embarrassing on both your parts to mention. They involve copious amounts of both awkward teenage flirting and hormones, along with a healthy dose of xenophobia.

This time, so far both of you are still a green for go. You haven't gotten anywhere past making out and maybe leaving some hickeys, though. Your hands are still firmly on his shoulders and his big, square ones haven't strayed from the territory of your waist this whole time. You're still doing this, though. You're making it happen.

You tilt your head back obligingly when Karkat gets his mouth on your neck, where he presses light kisses. This, however, doesn't prepare you for when his fingertips – hot like a furnace, hot like Texan summer – slip underneath your shirt. You yelp in shock and he immediately draws back.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your collarbone. You reach up to pet at his hair, which is weirdly stiff and prickly but still pleasant to the touch. You think, that maybe, you would like him to put his hands back where they were.

“Dude, shit, no,” You say, using your free hand to hold one of his. “I kinda liked it, you just surprised me, maybe I want you to get your big man hands all up in my shirt, fucking ravish me. Do it slow, though, I am but a fragile maiden.”

Karkat goes pink and frowns at you, his nose getting all scrunched up. You kind of want to boop it.“Dave, you sack of regurgitated shit, never say anything like that again or no one is going to get ravished, least of all you and your bony ass.”

“You want my bony ass to get all up in your shameflap and your seedglobes or whatever they are,” You pause, “Hell, you just want my ass in general.”

His frown morphs into a glare and he shoves his hands up your shirt in what you think is an attempt to get you to shut up. It totally works. His hands are warm and rough and calloused, having him touch you is just a nice thing in general. His eyes are locked firmly on where yours are behind the shades, and he's staring kind of... intensely at you. It's a little freaky.

“Take them off,” he demands softly, nodding at the aviators. You almost put up a protest before you picture yourself getting fucked with nothing but your shades on and shudder as you take them off. Not happening.

Karkat cracks a shade of a smile and gets back to moving his hands against your chest. It feels kind of awkward, like he's confused about how your muscles work; his hands linger in the strangest places and he keeps looking for something on your sides. Eventually, he finds your nipples. When you gasp, he suddenly has the realization that that's an erogenous zone. A+ there, Karkat. You are so proud.  
You are also sitting in his lap like a dead fish, as he grouchily points out to you. You murmur an apology that's only mostly teasing and get your hands in his weird prickly hair and pull. He doesn't like that, but he does like it when you mess with his horns, rubbing at the bases like a skull-protrusion masseuse or some shit.

You find that there are little ridges on Karkat's sides that are kind of like side-nipples, and he likes his horns to be touched but not for too long, and he learns how you like having your hair pulled and your neck bitten. Discoveries all around. You are like the Columbus of sex and are discovering erogenous zones in an uneducated and racist way. Amazing.

You also discover that, oh holy shit, that is definitely Karkat's bulge moving in his pants. (Yes _of course_ you know what that is, you're not a moron and you don't enjoy the idea of going into a relationship blind.) You're not going to lie, you're half-hard, yourself. His happy tentacle is only a little wiggly, so you think he's in the same situation.  
“Are you going to fuck me or what?” You murmur against his ear, relishing in the way his breathing stutters. His questing hands freeze then slowly start to drift downwards towards your waistband. Yes, excellent. You approve.

“I'm not sticking my bulge up your ass,” Karkat informs you in a tone far too breathy to be saying something so ridiculous, “That's fucking unsanitary as hell, and I have goddamn standards.”  
That's not allowed to be hot. You're not allowed to be attracted to him when he's being dumb. Down, dick! Down!

“So am I going to be fucking you, or?”

“Hell no, I am going to let you put your freaky monkey bulge in my nook and I am _still_ going to top. It will be great, perverts will compose ballads about our coupling for eons to come.”  
You snort and then smother a squeal when the hands that are _suddenly on your ass_ squeeze. Karkat grins smugly and toys with the waistband of your pants, hooking his thumbs into it and tugging slightly.

When your teasing expression falters and your breath quickens, he stops and looks at you, all concern. It's fucking ridiculous. You're _so_ glad he does.

“Do you still wanna do this?” Karkat breathes, yellow headlamp eyes locked onto yours. You nod. Your dick is still interested and so are you.

“Just nervous,” You tell him, “Do _you_ still wanna do this?”

“Oh my god, of _course_ ,” He says quickly, tugging on your pants almost like a question. Asking permission. And then he goes all official about it, asking “Status?” as he pulls your pants down slowly towards your ankles.

“Green,” You reply, kicking off your pants and leaning back to watch him take his off. And then, not because you don't already know the answer but because you still need to ask, “Status, Captain Vantas?”

“Green,” Karkat says, shucking off his pants and adding them to the pile before getting his hands up your shirt again and his mouth on your neck. This is the nakedest you've ever been with him before. Neat. Time to get nakeder.

“Shirts off,” You announce, pulling at the hem of his sweater for emphasis. He leans back just long enough to let you yank it off before pulling yours off and getting right back where he was. The trouser snake in his boxers seems to be having some sort of spastic fit. It is wonderfully weird. Everything about him is. His muscles are shaped differently than yours; there's clear abdominals and pectorals but. There's this creeping sense of difference that you get crawling up the back of your neck whenever you look at him. You think it's the same for him.

“Hey,” you say, and when that doesn't get Karkat's attention you flick at those ridges on his sides. That gets you his attention, with a side of a low, drawn-out moan. Score one for Strider.

“Yeah?”

“What if, oh shit, what if we introduced your happy tentacle to my love hammer?” You propose, leaning back to smirk and waggle your eyebrows at him. He grins ferally back and you swear you could count his scraggly teeth. Holy shit.

Karkat reaches down to press the heel of his hand to where your dick is straining against your boxers in a kind of experimental way, belying the cocky (haha, cocky) air he's putting on. He takes the way you whistle out a long, low breath as cue to continue. He changes speeds and grips frequently, figuring out what you like and what you don't. The troll keeps leaving his hand there passively, rather than actively stroking you. You guess a prehensile donger like his can probably do the stroking itself.

When you get it into your head to reciprocate, which is later than you'd care to admit, you look at the lump in his boxers and the damp stain that's noticeably larger than the one on your undies with a little apprehension. Okay, alien peenor. Alright. You reach down and press your hand against him the way he was doing to you at first, gentle, rhythmic circles, more for him to have something to rut against than anything.

“Shit,” Karkat breathes, voice low and rough against your ear, “Can I, can we-” He's almost agressively tugging at your boxers again, instead of asking with words. You lift your hips for him in answer. He pulls them down and little Dave is exposed to the less-than-warm air of Karkat's block.

The troll raises his eyebrows in mild surprise, shrugs as if to say 'Alright, cool, I'll take it' and shuffles backwards to shimmy out of his boxers. When he scoots closer to you again, bare skin brushing yours, there is something thick and wet and red squirming excitedly between his thighs like a boa constrictor on meth.

“Shit, dude,” you say, “Sex me _up_.” You climb into his lap and his bulge wriggles around between your thighs in a sort of questing way, making you gasp when it prods sensitive areas you didn't even know you had.

Karkat growls in frustration, grumbling about how his 'useless fucking appendage can't even grab the bits it's supposed to' and takes his tentadick in hand, guiding it to your nontentadick. It wraps around you, squeezing and pulsing eagerly. You gasp and shudder and cling to Karkat, because _yes_ you've jerked it before but this is someone else and that someone else is your best bro and it's fucking overwhelming.

Karkat seems to be, to put it simply, less impressed by the sexing.

“Doesn't it move, like, at all,” He grumbles, rolling his hips up in a half-confused way like he's never had to do it before. Again with the prehensile wee wees.

“It – ahh, twitches,” You supply helpfully, rocking your hips down against him more forcefully. Karkat likes that better, a low, rumbling purr starting up in his chest while he pushes up against you.

Once you get used to the sensation, it's not too much. Just a little back and forth and the sound of Karkat's breath in your ears. Eventually the troll huffs a frustrated sigh and stops moving entirely.

“Okay, no,” he grumbles, pushing you off of him. “This isn't working. At all. C'mere, touch my nook. That might work.” He leans back, propping himself up on his elbows and spreads his legs almost timidly.

Holy fuck. You have Karkat Vantas, this big, burly figure of a troll, on his back and spreading 'em for you. You're overwhelmed in a completely different way now. Okay. You got this. Time to acquaint yourself with the mysteries of troll vajeeper.

Well, first off, his is flushed red and dripping with a translucent goo that looks a little too similar to blood for your comfort. You close your eyes and steel yourself before tentatively taking his bulge in hand and holding it out of the way, letting it tangle between your fingers. Karkat gasps when you wiggle your pinky. Score two for you. You can do this.

You press the fingers of your other hand against his slit, not putting anything in yet, to see where he's sensitive. You can't find a clit of any sort, and overall he doesn't seem to feel anything overwhelming from his hoohah. Must be the bulges that are more sensitive, you decide, and this thought is backed up by the loud groan that escapes Karkat when you stroke his dick.

Too bad that when you bump those particular uglies it sucks for him. Maybe you can make it work this way.

“Ready?” You ask, looking at Karkat's face for a response. He nods not even a little bit hesitantly – fucker's more confident than you; too bad he doesn't want to put his willy anywhere near your ass. At least he'd _act_ like he knew what he was doing.

You slowly push one finger inside of him and you can't help but gasp when you feel how hot and wet he is inside. When you look at Karkat's face, his head is tilted back and his eyes are closed in an expression of pained concentration. Shit.

“Status?” You ask hastily, not daring to move. You didn't want to hurt him. Fuck. _Fuck._

“Green,” Karkat says after a moment, “...Oh, hell. Calm down, Dave. I'm fine. It's just, hhaa, it's weird, is all. Flick your finger some, curl it – shit, yeah, yeah, like that. You got this. This is good.”

You have a finger in your alien fuckbuddy's bug snatch. This is good. Not normal, but fuck, were you ever? You decide to add a second finger, and Karkat encourages you softly. So far he doesn't seem to be enjoying much, but whenever you press your fingers _just right_ against this soft seam at the back of his nook, his hips lift seemingly on their own and a string of curses falls out of his lips.

He moans outright when you add a third. Your forgotten dick throbs painfully, and when you whine, Karkat gives you a sort of hungry look. It's like he wants to eat you, in the most romantic way possible. Like he wants to cut you up into little pieces and keep them forever. You should probably not enjoy it when he gets like that as much as you do.  
He gently pulls your hands away from his crotch (they're pink and sticky) and sits up, pressing his forehead to yours and nipping at your bottom lip.

“Hey, Dave,” Karkat whispers, laughing breathily on the tail end of your name, “'M gonna fuck you now, okay?”

“'Kay,” You reply dazedly, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. You're already overwhelmed. God. He's ruining you, and he hasn't even done anything yet. Karkat swings his leg over your hip, planting his hands firmly by the sides of your head to hold himself up. You take advantage of the view to examine the musculature of his arms. God, he's hot. 10/10, would feel those biceps again. He distracts you from your monologue when he rolls his hips against yours slowly, dragging the damp lips of his nook against the head of your dick. It's torture, holy shit. When you whimper, his smile is positively predatory.

“You're louder than I thought you'd be,” Karkat tells you, tossing his head, “I like it, don't stop.” You honestly thought he'd be as loud in bed as he is everywhere else, but apparently not. That just makes it that much better whenever he breaks down enough to make a sound, though. Means you're really doing something right.

Not that you're doing much – you are being done. Your hands are resting on his hips, under the guise of guiding him when he rocks against you, but he's clearly the one in control here.

Karkat stops rolling his hips and reaches down between you to do something – you can't see what, his arm is in the way, goddammit – and then slowly, slowly sinks down until just the head of your dick is in him. You gasp.

He cracks an eye open and looks at you, biting his lip. He laughs, like he can't believe he just did that, then breathes out a sigh and shifts slightly while he gets used to the feeling. “That's – that's the biggest part, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You respond, trying to keep your hands from shaking. You are doing it. You are actually having sex with Karkat. Actual _penetrative_ sex, not just rutting against each other until you come to a sticky finish. Holy shit.

“Status?” You ask at the last minute. Damn it, Strider. You get your dick a little wet and you suddenly forget to make sure your partner's enjoying it as much as you are. Four for you.

“Green,” Karkat says, moving his hips slightly. You can tell, when he does this, that his species' wiggly bits make the way he fucks a lot different from yours. He clearly is not sure how to move his anything below the waist. (Besides Little Karkat, but you don't think he controls how his tentadonger is squirming excitedly against his stomach). After a while, though, he gets into a rhythm that works for both of you.

Then suddenly, with nary a 'heads up, Dave,' he sinks down, taking all of you in at once. You just barely manage to stifle a shout and have to think of Rose's undergarments to keep yourself from coming right then.

Karkat is ridiculously warm and wet and soft inside; you're pretty sure you're moaning like a pornstar at the feel of him. He leans down to press his lips against yours, sloppy and uncoordinated, and guides one of your hands to tangle with his bulge.

“Holy fuck,” He murmurs against your mouth, “God damn, that's weird. I – status?” You nod your affirmative, green green green. The sexing is more of a team effort, now; you push up against him when he presses down towards you.

Karkat is getting louder, too, and when the head of your cock brushes against that seam at the back of his nook (seedflap?), he moans, rocking down hard. His bulge is leaking pink goo all over your hand, and you hope that means he's close, because you are not going to last much longer if he keeps clenching around you like that.

Everything fades away until it's just you and Karkat and the sound of your breathing in the room. You open your eyes - when did you close them? - and he's staring straight at you with an unreadable expression. You take it means something good, because he kisses you roughly and growls possessively into your mouth.

You tell him to do that again and he obliges you, pushing your shoulders down and leaning forward over you like he wants to cover you like a blanket. He bites the meaty part of your shoulder in an experimental sort of way, and.

And you.

You just.

You come right there, screaming into Karkat's shoulder and quaking all over. When you drift back to reality, Karkat is looming over you, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He shudders and gasps like you surprised him and follows you shortly after. You know he's coming, not only because he arches his back in a long, loud moan, but because he paints your stomach and just about everything below that in a sticky red liquid. It looks upsettingly close to blood and he pulls off you about as fast as he can. You'd be a little hurt if you hadn't just had what easily qualifies as the best orgasm of your life.

Karkat flops down beside you, burying his face in the hollow of your neck, and doesn't say anything. You don't either, for about five minutes. By then, your afterglow has faded enough for you to look at him and waggle your eyebrows.

“Was it good for you too, baby?” You coo, pursing your lips and batting your eyelashes at him. You do not deny that you deserve the punch he lands on your shoulder.

“Eh,” Karkat says, shrugging, “I guess it was marginally better than the usual lonely, self-pitying wankfest I have on the third of every month. It was okay.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, the Niagara Falls of jizz on my lap looks a little better than okay to me.”

Karkat goes a little pink and looks down, clearly mortified when he realizes that he did, in fact, go without a bucket.

“No but seriously, though,” you say, rolling onto your side to look him in the eyes, “Was it alright? Did you like it? I know I've got a big dick but I mean, that's not everything there is to it.”

“It was great, don't worry about it,” Karkat mutters, hiding his face, “What you should be worrying about is how the genetic material on your lap is going to crust if you don't wash it off, stat.” You grimace and stand up as fast as you can, hastily wrapping a towel around your bits. You are _not_ putting your clothes on over that.

You're surprised when you seriously, sincerely ask if Karkat will come and take a shower with you. You're even more surprised when he shrugs and says “Why the fuck not?” and grabs a towel to wrap around his own waist.

The two of you run across the meteor as fast as you can to get to the showers, and are insanely smug and proud of how sneaky you were. Not even Terezi sniffed the two of you out. You are convinced that no one knows you did a thing.

That is, until the next day, when Rose pats your shoulder and congratulates you on finally, finally losing your virginity and hands you a ball gag. You inform her that it is rude as hell to push her kinks onto other people. She just laughs and tells you that it would be highly recommended that you use it next time you decide to have very loud, very obnoxious sex. Especially on a meteor populated by your ex, a deranged clown, a carapace, and two lesbians.

“By the way, brother dear,” Rose says, in that way that sounds like she wants to cut you up and figure out how you work, “I must commend you on making sure that you were both enjoying yourselves for the duration of your coupling.” You're not sure what she means until she leans uncomfortably close to your ear and whispers, “Status?”

_God dammit._

 


End file.
